Of Demons and Cults
by TheSweetSerenity
Summary: When the Winchesters investigate several disappearances, they discover a cult. The only problem? The cult has discovered Sammy. A Teenchester story! Sam is 15 and Dean is 19.
1. Chapter 1

**Alright, so this idea has been running around in my head for awhile so I finally decided to get it out. Reviews are loved and critiques are welcome. Enjoy! :) **

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"You just need to calm down Mrs. Natter." John said calmly to the hysterical woman sitting across from him and Dean. "Try taking some deep breaths and tell us what happened."

After seeing a newspaper article for the sixth kidnapping, the Winchester family had packed up and headed for the little town of Hicks, Nebraska. Yes, the town's name was literally Hicks. The people here might have once been hicks themselves, but after so much trouble in such a small time, they had turned into cautious, quiet people. Strangers in this town were avoided at all costs. Dean was pretty sure the only reason anyone was talking to them was because of the fake badges. Even with those, the help they were getting from the townspeople was slim to nothing.

All of the victims were 16 years old, female, and generally well liked in the town. None of them had any kind of criminal record or anything to indicate they would run away. And they all disappeared in the span of only a couple of seconds. Mrs. Natter had been the last one to lose her daughter, so the pair decided to start there and work from there.

Mrs. Natter sniffed and rubbed furiously at her eyes. "I was looking around Jim's- he owns a furniture store- for a new chair. She was bored, so she went to sit by the door. I looked away for a second, and when I looked back she was gone."

"And how do you know that someone didn't take her?" Dean asked. It was the thing that most of the townspeople insisted—that something not human had taken their daughters. All of them were completely positive about that.

"Anna may have been 16, but I'm still a mother. The door had one of those bells that ring on it throughout the store when someone walks in or out. I always looked up when it went off. After I looked away, it…it never went off. No one came in or out of the store!" Mrs. Natter wailed, breaking down in sobs again.

"Thank you Mrs. Natter, we'll come back if we have anymore questions." John said gently as he and Dean stood up to leave. Mrs. Natter nodded and grabbed a kleenex from the box next to her.

Outside the door, a teenage girl sat on the step. Her shoulders were hunched over, letting her wheat blonde hair cover her face. She gasped and jumped up when she heard the door shut. Her eyes were red—she had obviously been crying.

"You were here to talk to her about Anna, weren't you?" she asked quietly.

"Do you know something?" Dean asked, his bright green eyes taking in her hesitant posture.

"I never told anyone." She whispered. "Can we talk somewhere else? I don't want her mom to-"

"Where would you like to talk?" Dean asked.

"There's a park, by the library. Meet me there in an hour." She said, then turned and walked away quickly.

"That was strange." Dean said, watching her walk away. Her head was bowed, her hair covering her face again.

"Hopefully we'll find out more in an hour." John answered, watching the girl disappear around a corner. He looked down at Dean. "You better hurry if you want to pick your brother up before he decides to walk home."

Dean glanced at his watch. "Shit!" without another word, he raced towards his Impala. His dad smiled a little as he watched the car take off into the road. It was no idle threat—patience was never something any Winchester was good at, and if Sam didn't think his brother was coming for him, he _would _walk home, even though past experiences in walking home had proved dangerous.

Sam had just given up waiting for his brother when he heard the Impala's enjoy roar around the corner. He didn't even want to know how fast Dean had been going; he was just lucky there weren't any cops sitting around. Throwing a glance at the group of seniors crowded at the door, he hurried down the stairs and slid into the Impala. Of course, Dean noticed his glance.

"Did they give you any problems?" he asked, eyeing them. They looked like kids who wouldn't be able to cause much harm to Sam, but anyone could get taken down by enough numbers.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean, I'm the new kid in a tiny school of people who hate outsiders. Of course they gave me problems. It wasn't anything I couldn't handle though."

One of the seniors chose that moment to look over at the car. Dean noticed the split lip and smiled. The senior glared back.

"So, do we have a case here?" Sam asked, trying to draw attention away from himself. Dean was used to it by now. Sam liked to deal with his own problems.

"Maybe. Everyone is positive that it wasn't human, whatever took the girls. I think their right. We're meeting with a girl in an hour who may know something."

"Do I have to go? I have a ton of homework to do." Sam pleaded. Dean looked at him sharply.

"Sam. It's Friday. You have all weekend to work on it."

"Not really. As soon as we get an actual lead on this case, I'm going to be out helping you guys. It'll probably happen right when I need to get homework done."

"Well I don't know. You'll have to ask dad when we get back to the motel."

Sam sighed, already knowing what the answer was going to be. "Yeah, okay."

Dean elbowed him, trying to get a smile out of him. "Hey, cheer up. Maybe it'll just be a salt and burn case."

Sam looked at him, far from amused. "When have we ever had that kind of luck?"

"You never know, maybe our luck will brighten starting today." Dean joked. Sam snorted in response.

"Yeah, let me know how that works out for you."

It appeared luck was on Sam's side in the end. John didn't want to bring Sam with them in case it scared away the girl. He was pulling out his homework and spreading it over the bed when they left.

The park was only a few minutes away, but both Dean and John drove, just in case they needed any of the weapons. The girl was already there, sitting on a swing with her arm wrapped around a chain. She looked up with interest when they pulled into the parking lot. They walked over to her, Dean taking a seat in the swing next to her while John leaned against a metal pole, careful to keep a watch out for any danger.

"You're not really state police, are you?" she asked, looking between them.

"No, but we can still help you." Dean said, taking a chance. The girl looked at him, then looked back down at the woodchips. She drew in a deep breath and nodded. "What's your name?"

"Anya. I'm Anna's best friend." She said. Dean noted that she used present tense. She was positive that Anna was still alive. While Dean highly doubted it, he let her keep thinking it. Sometimes hope was all they had.

"What did you know about Anna?" John asked.

Anya seemed to struggle to get the words out. "I mean, I don't know about the other girls that got taken, but Anna, she was scared before she got taken. She told me that she was walking home one night from her boyfriend's house and she saw this figure standing back the way she came. She said it was just standing there, not moving, just watching her."

"Did she tell you what this figure looked like?" John asked. His mind was already churning with possibilities.

"She said that she could tell it was a guy, and that he was wearing this red robe, but the hood was pulled up, so she couldn't see the face. But…" she trailed off, the ground immediately drawing her gaze again.

"But what Anya?" Dean prodded her back into the conversation.

"But I saw him too." She whispered, closing her eyes as she turned her face up to the sky. The sun broke through the tops of the trees surrounding them and both Winchesters could see tears on her face. "And he-he told me that he was coming for me too."

It proved to be too much for her and she broke down crying. Dean got up from his swing and hugged her. He hated doing things like this, but the girl was only a year older than Sammy, and fear was already gripping him. Just because whoever it was had stuck to patterns so far, didn't mean they wouldn't make an exception.

"Come on, we need to get you somewhere safe until we can figure all this out." John said gruffly. Dean could tell he was thinking about Sam too. The girl nodded and sniffed, wiping away the last of her tears. When she stood up, she stood a lot straighter than she had earlier. Apparently telling someone had helped her a lot.

"I can call my mom, tell her I'm staying at friend's house." Anya snorted sarcastically. "Not that she'll even care." She walked a couple of feet off, pulling out her cell phone.

"Any ideas?" Dean asked quietly.

"Maybe a couple, but we need to see if we can get anything else out of her. This sounds big though. Bobby is only four hours away, I say we take her there, and watch her while Sam does some research." John said. That was mostly the truth. He also just wanted to get Sam out of the town, just in case. Sam wouldn't protest as much if he thought it was for the job. Dean nodded, on the same thought path.

"I'll call Sam and have him pack up the stuff so we can leave right away." Dean said, pulling out his own cell phone.


	2. Chapter 2

**I was really bored tonight and looking for something to do, so I figured, why not give you guys an update a day earlier than I planned? And, while we're at it, let's throw some Sammy whompage in there for you guys, because who doesn't like a good Sammy beating? So enjoy this next chapter and I'll see about getting the next chapter up in a couple days :) **

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Sam had almost everything packed by the time they got back. John took charge of his own stuff, loathe to let even his sons touch it, and sent Dean to check them out of the room. As soon as Sam's stuff was packed, John sent him out to the car to keep an eye on Anya, just in case. He doubted anything would actually happen, but you could never be too sure. Sam slid into the passenger seat of the Impala, looking back at the other girl. She had put herself as far in the corner as possible and pulled her legs up on the seat so her knees blocked her face. She jumped when the car door opened and looked at Sam warily. He offered what he hoped was a trusting smile.

"Hi, I'm Sam." He said.

"Anya." She fell silent after giving him her name.

"Everything's going to be alright." He told her with his smile. "We're going to get you somewhere safe, where this thing can't get you." That seemed to help her a little. She gave him a small smile and the tension in her shoulders faded. It only lasted for a second though. She screamed loudly as something appeared in the driver's side of the car. Sam wrenched around, one arm already swinging to hit whatever it was, the other going for the gun. The thing moved before Sam could complete either action, easily fitting a hand around his throat and slamming him into the window. Anya continued to scream, frozen in spot by fear. Sam's breath wheezed as he tried to pull in enough air. The figure leaned forward, the hood of his robe brushing against Sam's cheek. He heard the figure take in a deep breath. The hood fell back as he moved away from Sam, his hand still firmly against Sam's throat. Sam's eyes widened in surprise.

It was just a man.

Although this man seemed stronger and quicker than an ordinary human. When he spoke though, it was with a man's voice.

"Yes! You are the one our master wants!" the man exclaimed. Sam struggled to hold onto consciousness as his vision began to black out. Whatever this man wanted with him, it probably wasn't good, and passing out was not an option right now. A commotion outside of the car distracted the man. Sam saw out of the corner of his eye that his brother had come back from the front desk when he saw what was happening in his car. He pulled out his gun just as the man laughed and disappeared. Sam fell forward, no longer forced upright. He didn't have the strength to catch himself and face-planted into the seat. His vision faded down to the seat as he beat back the blackness that threatened to cloud his vision. He heard the door screech open and felt someone's hands pulling him up.

"-am! Come on, say something!" he heard someone shouting at him. His mind seemed to hit the fast-forward button to catch up to everything he missed. Dean. It was Dean calling him. "Damn it Sam! Breath!"

Oh. That's right, he needed to do that. It had been awhile since he had taken in any air. His body heaved as he gasped in air. The world jerked back into view. He gasped in breaths while Dean held his body up to support him.

"What the hell happened Sam?" Dean demanded. If Sam didn't know Dean better, he would think Dean was mad at him. It was only the fear speaking for Dean though. Sam shook his head, the world finally stabilizing around him. His rubbed at his aching throat.

"Guy just appeared out of nowhere. Moved faster than he shoulda been able to." Sam croaked out. What he wouldn't give for some water. Right on cue, Dean produced a water bottle. Sam eagerly drank a quarter of it before he turned back to Dean. "I'm pretty sure it's a cult, but whatever kind of cult it is, they're juiced up with some kind of magic. He didn't open the car door, and I didn't even have time to get a swing at him."

"What did he say to you? I saw his mouth moving." Dean warned. He knew that if Sam thought it wasn't important, he would keep it to himself and usually anything unimportant to Sam was anything that had to do with him. Sam flinched and Dean knew he was right.

"He-he said that I was the one his master wanted." Dean stiffened and looked up, knowing his dad had heard the same thing. Now it was even more important that they get to Bobby's.

"Let's go boys. The sooner we leave this town behind, the better." John said, hurrying over to his truck. He was already pulling out of the parking lot before the door was shut all the way. The Impala pulled out a little slower, but still managed to break every speed limit on the way out of town.

Silence had fallen in the car. Anya had retreated behind her knees again, though both brothers could hear her deep breathing as she struggled to calm herself down. Sam clung to the water bottle as if it was life itself.

"Hey Dean?" he asked into the quiet.

"Yeah?"

"How come we always manage to find the cults? I hate cults."

"_We_ don't find them, _they_ find _you_." Dean told him, his voice joking, but his eyes serious. What he said was true. Every time they had dealt with cults, they had always found Sammy; always centered on him.

"Yeah, well I still hate them." Sam mumbled, before leaning against the window. He was asleep within minutes.

The got to Bobby's without any problems after that. Bobby came racing outside with a shot gun when he heard the car doors slam shut. Obviously their dad had forgotten to call ahead. Anya squeaked in the back when she saw the gun. It startled Sam out of his sleep.

"We here?" he asked groggily.

"Yeah. Shot gun welcome and everything." Dean opened his door and stepped out, Sam following close behind him. Sam opened Anya's door for her and smiled.

"Don't worry, he's just a little jumpy. He's harmless to you." Sam explained. Anya took a deep breath and climbed out of the car. Bobby was over, talking to John in hushed tones. The argument looked heated.

"I told you not to do this one by yourself!" Sam heard Bobby yell. "But you were too stubborn to listen to me and now you've got your son all mixed up with them!"

Sam flinched—his dad was not going to just stand there and take that. Surprisingly though, John lowered his head and didn't say anything for a second. When he gave his answer, he spoke too quietly for either boy to hear him. Bobby sighed and looked out past everybody.

"Well come on. Let's put some protections up so they can't get the jump on you two again." He said to Anya and Sam. He led the way back into the house. "Go ahead and dump your stuff in your usual room. Show Anya the guest room." Bobby said with a glare at the two boys. The nodded meekly at him before leading the way upstairs. The showed Anya her room, which she promptly went into and shut the door, before going next door to theirs.

Sam flipped on the light and Dean winced. The bruises on Sam's neck had taken a distinct hand print shape and were an ugly purple-black color. They had to hurt. Sam felt Dean looking and smiled at him.

"They probably look glorious. Feel like it too." He grumbled, rubbing his neck. "Nothing a couple pain killers can't handle, so stop worrying."

"Did you wanna get some more sleep? I'm sure dad wouldn't be opposed to it." Dean offered. Sam shook his head.

"You guys need my help with this research. Besides, I got enough in the car."

They had been researching without any results for an hour and a half before Anya came down and joined them. The problem wasn't that they couldn't find the information—they found too much. The description they were searching off of were too vague to get any detailed information. It could have been any number of different suspected cults. She took a steadying breath.

"I know you guys need my help. I-I'll see what I can do." She said.

"What else do you remember about the robes?" John asked. Then he looked down at Sam. "If you remember anything, feel free to join in."

Sam shook his head. "It was dark and I was a little distracted. All I remember was that the man was older, probably 40's. He had black hair and his eyes…" Sam narrowed his eyes, like he was trying to see something far away. "They were like a cat's. The pupils looked like slits." Sam shook his head again and his eyes lost their distant look. "But it must have been a trick of the light."

"Well," Anya started hesitantly. "Maybe not. When he turned away from me, I noticed a pattern on the robes in gold. It looked like some kind of wildcat. Like a panther maybe."

"Wait, wait, wait." Sam said suddenly, his eyes solely focusing on the computer screen.

"Sam?" Dean asked when Sam didn't say anything for a minute. It was too late though—Sam was already lost in the research. Instead, Dean walked around, watching as flashes of pictures and texts appeared and disappeared on the screen in seconds. "Man how do you even see what you're looking at?"

"I know what I'm looking for." Sam said, clearly distracted. "Here we go! I knew I had seen this before."

Sam flipped the computer screen around so that everyone could see the picture he was looking at. "The cult we're dealing with worships the demon Teristal, who is a seriously bad demon. He's an African demon, who was known for being able to pick out kids who had 'special' abilities, or as we know them, physics. His form was usually a-"

"Panther." Anya said. She sounded like she had just been proven not insane. Then again, this was probably a lot for her.

"Exactly. Many African tribes would keep a panther in their village, and when a child turned five, they would be put by the panther, and then the village would watch and see if they panther made any sign of favor towards the kid. If they did, the kid usually went into training as a shaman. But that's not exactly what the demon does."

"And what exactly does this demon do?" Bobby asked.

"Well, it's true about him being able to pick out special kids. Unfortunately, if a psychic kid was ever put next to this demon, the demon would kill him and suck the kid's power to make himself stronger. He's been able to wipe out almost entire generations of kids before."


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry you all had to wait this long but I appreciate your patience! I hope this is keeping you entertained and absorbed, since reviews seriously went down for the last chapter. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this next chapter. Please review and/or critique! Thank you :)

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They had been researching without any results for an hour and a half before Anya came down and joined them. The problem wasn't that they couldn't find the information—they found too much. The description they were searching off of were too vague to get any detailed information. It could have been any number of different suspected cults. She took a steadying breath.

"I know you guys need my help. I-I'll see what I can do." She said.

"What else do you remember about the robes?" John asked. Then he looked down at Sam. "If you remember anything, feel free to join in."

Sam shook his head. "It was dark and I was a little distracted. All I remember was that the man was older, probably 40's. He had black hair and his eyes…" Sam narrowed his eyes, like he was trying to see something far away. "They were like a cat's. The pupils looked like slits." Sam shook his head again and his eyes lost their distant look. "But it must have been a trick of the light."

"Well," Anya started hesitantly. "Maybe not. When he turned away from me, I noticed a pattern on the robes in gold. It looked like some kind of wildcat. Like a panther maybe."

"Wait, wait, wait." Sam said suddenly, his eyes solely focusing on the computer screen.

"Sam?" Dean asked when Sam didn't say anything for a minute. It was too late though—Sam was already lost in the research. Instead, Dean walked around, watching as flashes of pictures and texts appeared and disappeared on the screen. "Man how do you even see what you're looking at?"

"I know what I'm looking for." Sam said, clearly distracted. "Here we go! I knew I had seen this before."

Sam flipped the computer screen around so that everyone could see the picture he was looking at. "The cult we're dealing with worships the demon Teristal, who is a seriously bad demon. He's an African demon, who was known for being able to pick out kids who had 'special' abilities, or as we know it, physics. His form was usually a-"

"Panther." Anya said. She sounded like she had just been proven not insane. Then again, this was probably a lot for her.

"Exactly. Many African tribes would keep a panther in their village, and when a child turned five, they would be put by the panther, and then they would watch and see if they panther made any sign of favor towards the kid. If they did, the kid usually went into training as a shaman. But that's not exactly what the demon does."

"And what exactly does this demon do?" Bobby asked.

"Well, it's true about him being able to pick out special kids. Unfortunately, if a psychic kid was ever put next to this demon, the demon would kill him and suck the kid's power to make himself stronger. He's been able to wipe out almost entire generations of kids."

"Are you saying all this kids that they've been taking are psychics?"

Sam shook his head but look hesitantly at Anya.

"Go ahead, I can take it." She said, though her voice shook.

"Well, with someone's death, natural power is released. And the younger they are, the more power they release. Right now they're probably just trying to build up enough power to summon him from Hell."

Anya sniffed. "You mean, all those girls…Anna…are probably dead?"

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He hated this part of the job. "Yeah, probably. I'm sorry." Anya just nodded and seemed to withdraw from the conversation.

"What about this guy's ability to appear out of nowhere?" Dean asked, remembering the encounter in the car.

"Well, it says here that the head priest or priestess of the demon is usually gifted with some unnatural talents. My guess is, he was made more cat-like. It would also explain the slit pupils I thought I saw."

"Great." Dean grumbled. "Juiced up cult guys. Just what we need." He stopped and looked back at Sam. "Wait, why are they going after you then? It said that you were the one his master wanted, but there's nothing special about you."

"Jerk." Sam muttered, but he was smiling.

"Bitch." Dean answered. Then they both looked up at their dad for an answer.

John looked at the floor thoughtfully. Should he tell them? _No, not yet_. They weren't ready. Instead, he shrugged. "I have no idea, but let's not stick around to find out. What does it say about killing them?"

Sam shrugged in answer. "It says that they're human, so I would assume just regular bullets. In the case of the head priest, it's just a matter of catching him."

"Dean, go pack the guns and get ready to go. Sam, you're staying here." John ordered. The reaction was about what John expected.

"What? Staying here? You're kidding me, right?" Sam sputtered, too outraged to get anything else out.

"No, Sam, I want you to stay here with Anya."

"Dad, there's protections around the house. She's perfectly safe in the house." Sam said, dangerously calm. Bobby and Dean both recognized what was about to happen from previous experiences.

"Sam, the last thing we need is to worry about making sure you don't get used for some strange ritual. So just stay here while Dean and I deal with this." John said, narrowing his eyes. "That's an order."

It was a second before Sam answered—never a good thing. "You know what dad? I don't understand you. You drag me to every hunt and then half the time, leave me behind. But when I want to stay behind, that's when you want my help!" Sam's voice rose as he vented. "I wish you would make up your damn mind. Do you want me to be a hunter or not?" with that, he turned and stormed out of the house. Dean reacted immediately.

"Sam! It's not safe out there for you!" he lunged towards the door, only to be held back by his dad.

"No, if he wants to act like a spoiled brat, then let him."

"Dad, if you don't want him to go on the hunt, then you can't let him go outside either. The protections won't hold." Dean protested.

"John, he's right. You have to get him back in here." Bobby added. John's grip loosened.

"Fine."

That was all Dean needed. He hurried to the door, letting it slam shut behind him.

Sam stormed off into the pre-dawn morning, still fuming. It was a bad idea to even try to go on the hunt now; they had pulled an all nighter and they were all tired. That fact didn't help settle his anger at all. It seemed to form around his mind, narrowing his vision and his instincts.

He never saw the pipe coming towards the back of his head. He crumpled to the ground soundlessly.

"Sam! Come-" Dean called out, coming outside just in time to see a man in a red robe hoist Sam over his shoulder. Sam didn't even move or twitch. Then Dean saw something drip down from Sam's face to the ground—blood. "Son of a bitch!" he yelled, jumping into action. He pulled his gun from his waistband, quickly aiming at the priest. He turned and smiled at Dean, then seemed to shimmer and disappear, taking Sam with him. "Sam!"

Dean ran towards where he last saw the two of them. Hidden behind their cars was a third car, running. The back door opened and he saw Sam get dumped in the back. Then the priest came back into view and got in the passenger door. Dean ran towards it, even as it backed up and sped out of the salvage yard.

"Sam!" Dean cried desperately as the car drove out of view.

The door slammed again as John and Bobby ran out. They had heard Dean yell and they knew it was never a good thing. They ran out to find him standing, staring after a trail of dust. In front of him, the ground was stained with a small pool of blood. John ran towards the cars and cursed when he saw that both cars had been tampered with. They would need work done before they would start.

"Damn it!" John said, kicking a tire on his truck in frustration. He turned on Dean who was still staring at the long gone car. "What happened?" Dean didn't answer, causing John to growl. "Dean!"

Dean jumped and shook his head. "I-I don't know. I came out here and that priest guy had Sam over his shoulder. He was out cold. They must have hit in him in the back of the head and that's where the blood is from. Then he seemed to…almost melt into the background. He reappeared when he got to the car. It was hiding behind ours. They must have just been waiting for Sam or Anya to come out."

Bobby shook his head. "I don't think they really care about Anya anymore. There was something about Sam that they wanted, and now they have him."

"Dean, get the guns. We're going to find him." John ordered. "Bobby-"

"I'm coming with you. Anya will be fine as long as she stays inside." Bobby said gruffly. John nodded his acceptance.

"Fine. But we leave in ten minutes."

Sam woke up slowly. His head pounded in time his heart beat and he quickly shut his eyes when they refused to adjust to the light. There wasn't much, but it was still too much for his concussed body. He raised a hand to his head felt the dried blood, along with a small amount of fresh. Whoever had taken him had hit him hard and hadn't bothered to wrap something to stop the bleeding, which either meant it wasn't completely necessary for him to be alive or they didn't know a thing about first aide. Great.

Deciding he didn't really have a choice anymore, he forced his eyes open, shading them with his hand until they had completely adjusted. He lowered his hand and looked at his surroundings. A small window went alongside the top of the room where he was, the ground covering half the window. The walls were white and barren of anything. There was a bed shoved into one corner. A doorway revealed a bathroom. _It's not the worst place I've ever woken up in_, he thought with a grimace. Just for kicks, Sam walked to the door and tried to open it but, as he expected, it was locked and he didn't have anything to pick the lock with. Really, all he needed was something like a paperclip. Dean was an expert lock-picker, but Sam was even better. Instead, he started walking in the room, trying to warm up stiff muscles.

He hadn't been walking long when the door jiggled, then opened. Two people in red robes walked in, both of them smaller then the man Sam knew was the head priest. He would at least stand a chance in a fight with them.

"What do you want?" he growled.

"Silence." One of them snapped. Sam was surprised to see that they were quiet young—probably about Dean's age. Even better then. He waited until they were too close to move quickly and launched his elbow, catching one in the nose. He fell back with a cry, holding his now bleeding nose. Sam moved without pause, catching the other one in the stomach with his other fist. When he doubled over, Sam smashed his face on his knee. The man dropped to the ground, groaning. Sam started to move towards the door before either could recover when he felt a pain in his throat, like something had been stabbed in the skin. The effect was immediate—his limbs grew heavy, then numb. His legs gave out on him, dropping him to first his knees and then all the way onto the ground. He looked up and saw the head priest standing over him. The other two men had managed to pull themselves into a bow, though the one he had kneed seemed disoriented. Well, so did Sam.

"This is payment for not following my direct orders. Next time, do not approach him." The head priest ordered. "There is a reason our master chose him."

"Yes, Chosen." They both intoned. Sam couldn't hold onto consciousness anymore and everything went black.


	4. Chapter 4

**So I realized that I forgot to do two things. One is that, supernatural is not mine. I don't even own the seasons, though I do watch them obsessively enough to have more of the show memorized then I probably should. **

**Also, I had a note about the last chapter. There is, most likely, no such demon as the demon Teristal, as I created him with my own overactive imagination. Therefore, the chances that there are African tribes out there, worshiping this make-believe demon is very small. Also part of my imagination. **

**Oh, and before I forget- turns out this story is going to be a little longer than originally planned. While working ahead, I took the story in a new direction I hadn't been planning on. **

**Anyway, review, critique, whatever, as long as you enjoy this next chapter! Thanks for reading and reviewing :)

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They made it back into town in record time. What had been a three hour car ride was cut down to two. The train of cars pulled into a parking lot on the outside of town. They didn't want to draw attention to themselves, so they all piled into the Impala before going any further into town.

"Where exactly are we going?" Dean asked as he watched his dad drive with a critical eye. It might have been his car once, but now it was Dean's and he didn't trust anyone with it.

"The first victim. Now that we know they're human, maybe we can find a connection between the cult and the first victim."

The first victim had been Maya Saline, almost two months ago. John and Dean had opted for more recent victims and hadn't gotten to Mrs. Saline before this whole fiasco had started. John and Dean walked up to the picket fence, Bobby having opted to go into town and buy some supplies they might need. Dean glanced at the neighbor's lawn—it was overgrown with weeds and it looked like no one had lived there in a while. It was something hanging from the roof that caught his eye though.

"Dad." He said, nudging him with his shoulder and nodding in the direction of the house. Hanging from the roof was a metal figure, shaped in the form of a jungle cat. It could be nothing, or it could be everything. John nodded.

"Maybe we're looking in the right place." he stepped up to knock on the door.

A small woman answered the door. Her brown hair had been cut short and hastily thrown out of her face. She wore a large red sweater, her hands clutching to the sleeves almost desperately.

"Yes?" her voice was quiet and blunt. John and Dean pulled out their fake badges.

"State police ma'am, we're looking into the kidnapping of Maya Saline. Could we ask you some questions?"

The woman looked startled, then tears began to form in her eyes. She hesitated, as if she wondered if the whole thing was a hoax. Finally she moved aside. "Ye-yes, I'm sorry. I thought they had given up looking for my daughter."

"No Mrs. Saline, they just passed it on to us." John said as they walked into the house. Mrs. Saline led them into the living room.

"How can I help you?" she asked. Her voice wavered a little. Dean felt bad about giving her new hope that her daughter would return after what Sam had told him. Just thinking about Sam sent a whole new feeling of dread coursing through him.

"Have you heard anything about your daughter since she disappeared? Any ransom note?" John asked. Mrs. Saline shook her head.

"It'd almost be better, you know? Then at least I'd know she was…well, you know." She sniffed. Dean passed a box of Kleenex over to her and she smiled gratefully at him.

"Before your daughter disappeared, was there anyone new or strange hanging around her?" when Mrs. Saline shook her head again, John decided to see what he could get about the neighbors. "What about somebody she knew, maybe grew up around, that had a sudden change of behavior?"

"Well…" she trailed off. John let her collect her thoughts. "Our neighbor, Mr. Starfford, has lived next door since before Maya was born. He was a good man; he would babysit for us sometimes. But a couple of years ago, he started looking at her, I don't know, differently? I thought he was making excuses to come over when she was home alone, but my husband told me I was crazy. I think in the last couple months before she disappeared, Maya noticed something. You don't think…" Mrs. Saline started, then shook her head and gave a little laugh. "I'm sorry; it was stupid to say anything. I just led you straight towards him."

John gave her a small smile. "Is he home? We'd just like to ask him some question."

Mrs. Saline shook her head. "I haven't seen him come or go lately. He had a house in the woods though; he tried to go out there a lot. If you ask Andy at the sporting goods store, he could tell you exactly where. That was who he bought it from."

"Thank you for your time Mrs. Saline. If we find anything out, we'll be sure to let you know."

"I feel bad about giving her that hope." Dean mumbled as they walked back to the car. "I liked her."

"I did too, but it's for the best. If we told her anything of what we know, the town would go crazy."

"So are we really just going to go ask this Andy guy where the cabin is? He's probably part of this cult."

"There's a way to tell I'm guessing. If he is, he'll have some kind of panther symbol on display somewhere. These cult people always want to show off their beliefs."

Sam drifted in and out of consciousness. He wasn't sure how much time passed, only that it did. It was a strange feeling—sometimes he could feel his body around him, but couldn't move it. Other times it seemed like he could actually _see _his body, like he was looking down at it. He was almost always aware of what was going on around him.

Every time he got close to regaining consciousness, someone would enter the room and inject more of the drugs into his neck. He felt the prick the first couple times, but after that, his whole body went numb. His body recognized the danger it was in, but couldn't do anything about it.

He realized that they were drugging him because he was hard to control. It made him feel a little better to know that they were scared of him. At the same time though, he was scared of them. If they were drugging him close to an overdose, they didn't need him alive necessarily. What did they need him for?

It turned out that Andy was a pretty safe guy. He was about 80 years old, and had lived out at the cabin for almost 20 years, just living off the land. When he was 40, his father died and Andy had taken over his business for him. He never had time to go out to the cabin anymore, and had sold it to Mr. Starfford about ten years ago. He was happy to send them out there—anything for law enforcement.

Bobby was waiting by the car when they got out. "Heard from some people in the store a couple of cops were asking about the location of a cabin. I take it we got our lead?"

"Yeah we think so. Come one, the cabin is at least five hours away." John said.

"Let's make it three." Bobby said, climbing back into the car.

They did just that. John parked the car at the entrance to the driveway. If this was the right place, he didn't want to alert everyone to their presence. Bobby and Dean got out wordlessly, piling guns and anything other weapons they might need into two duffel bags. Dean threw one over his shoulder and Bobby took the other. John grabbed a rifle and a shotgun, tucking the shotgun in the waistband of his pants and handling the shotgun two handed. Dean and Bobby both had shotguns in their hands. John led the way up the drive.

They approached the cabin soundlessly. There were no lights on, though that didn't necessarily mean no one was there—though it was getting close to dark, there was still enough sunlight to see. It was the size of the cabin that told them they were in the wrong spot though. The cabin wasn't very big—probably only a bedroom and a kitchen/living room area. Everyone lowered their guns.

"So are we just in the wrong spot or do we have the wrong person altogether?" Dean wondered out loud.

"I think we got the right person." Bobby said, pointing towards an identical metal panther figure that was at Mr. Starfford's house. Dean huffed in frustration.

"Then where else would they be?" Dean snapped.

"Bobby and I will check out inside. See if you can find anything outside." John said. Dean could hear the frustration in his voice, even though his face didn't reveal it.

Dean didn't appreciate getting banished to the outdoors. If something was happening here, they wouldn't leave something outside for someone to find. He had to admit though, that it was probably the better choice. He was tense, eager to find- to see- Sammy again. He almost felt like one of the hunting dogs he had watched on TV once; all his thoughts focused on one thing and with a simple command from his dad, he would take off running, ready to grab Sammy and get him the hell out of wherever he was.

Still, he did his search of the grounds, just in case. As he expected, nothing turned up. There was no sign that anyone had ever been here for a long time. Dean looked desperately across the lake, where more cabins stood, most with their lights on.

"Sammy where are you?" he whispered desperately.

When Sam came to almost consciousness again, he could tell that he had been moved. The surface he was laying on was hard- not that the bed they had put him on was soft- and cold. He could feel the chill of metal from his bare wrists and his ankles. His chest was cooler than his legs and he realized they had taken his shirt off. It was easy to come to the conclusion that whatever they wanted him for was happening tonight.

He blinked his eyes furiously, trying to get them to focus on anything, but everything came into focus blurrily. He moved to his body, trying to twist his neck or twitch his fingers but nothing happened. Whatever drug they had given him had paralyzed his body. Great. Even better.

Wherever they had moved him to was built with stone, that much he could tell. Sam would have guessed a cave, but it had the distinct form of a building. His eyes managed to pick out windows along the sides. They were mosaic, like a church's windows, but instead of scenes of Mary or Jesus, they were covered in demonic symbols and panthers. So they even had their own church. How had no one noticed this before?

And then the dread set in. If the townspeople didn't notice, how would Dad and Dean find him? There was no way he was getting out of this one alone, especially as drugged as he was. Sure, he could try and put up a fight, but it wasn't going to get him out of here. Alive at least.

But then again, the townspeople hadn't been looking for this. Dad and Dean were. Well, not the church specifically, but him. Sam knew that if anyone could find him, it would be them. Now it was just a matter of if they got there in time. Through the windows he could tell that the sun had gone down, though it was still the early hours of the night. If this cult planned on doing a ritual, they would probably wait at least another hour or two.

He felt another prick at his neck (he was closer to consciousness then he had thought obviously, if he felt pain again) and looked up to see someone in a red robe standing above him, needle in hand. The head priest again. Man, Sam really wished he would go away.

This drug was different though. Heat flooded his veins and Sam couldn't tell if it was painful or just uncomfortable. Then he realized he could move again. That was worth it. It was a horrible feeling to be trapped in your own body, and it was one he didn't want to ever repeat.

Then the drug attacked his mind. He inhaled sharply as it felt like a hundred needles seemed to press against his mind. Tears of pain flooded his eyes. He didn't know how long he laid like that, in such pain that he couldn't even think to move his body, but eventually the pain faded away into a fog and Sam let the fog consume him before the pain could take a second stab at him.

The door slammed, starling Dean out of his misery. Bobby and John strode almost eagerly out of the house.

"Let's go Dean." John ordered. Dean could tell they had something and quickly gathered up his bag.

"Did you find something?"

"He bought land about a year ago. It had some abandoned church on it. If they're doing rituals, it would be the perfect place." John told him as they all filed into the car.

"How far away is it?" Dean asked, already chomping at the bit to be there.

"Less than an hour." John said as he hit the accelerator.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry this took so long! Working 35 hours a week, lab 6 hours a week, and an online class that takes about 11 hours a week caught up to me real fast. So I gave you a pretty long update with lots of hurt Sam, cause who doesn't love that?**

**Anywho, comment, review, critque, whatever! :)**

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Sam figured that he hadn't been out long, but time still didn't really mean anything to him. It took him awhile to reorient himself. Whatever drug they had given him was still in his system, that much he could tell. Though the spikes-through-brain feeling was gone, there was a fog over his mind, making him react slower and making thought process harder.

After he figured out that bit of information, he realized that he hadn't woken naturally. Something had brought him out of his consciousness. While he was not there to protect himself, his instincts sure were.

Ten red-robed men stood around wherever they had put him. They all had their hoods up, heads bowed. They were chanting something. Sam forced his drugged mind to work harder, to pick out what they were saying.

His heart might have stopped; he wasn't sure. They were chanting in Latin. And what they were chanting? A summoning ritual for none other than the demon Teristal. Obviously it was late enough at night for the ritual to work right. His family hadn't found him in time to stop it.

The chanting stopped. A wind seemed to rip through the room, making the candles they had lit flicker. Sam knew that probably half of these men would die tonight, by the demon's hand. That was if they were lucky. If they weren't, the head priest would be the only one to walk out of here, and he would be possessed. These men had no idea what they were getting into.

Black smoke appeared in Sam's line of vision. Instantly, every red-robed man fell to his knees, eager to please their now present master. The smoke made its way towards the head priest who had stood at Sam's head. It brushed up against Sam as it went and Sam bared his teeth at the heat that spread through his body where it touched. Then it drifted out of Sam's line of view.

"Master." The priest practically purred. "We have freed you from your prison."

Sam wasn't sure what happened, but when the priest spoke again, it was with a different tone of voice. Maybe he had already possessed the priest. Demons could be dicks like that.

"What have you given me? He tastes…strange. Familiar."

Taste? When the hell did the demon _taste _him? Sam looked down and was surprised to see blood along his waist where the demon had touched him. Great, so not only was it powerful enough to hold its smoke form for an extended period of time, but he could cut people with a touch. And now that he had tasted Sam's blood, he had just become even more powerful. Things just kept getting better and better.

Sam was surprised when the head priest spoke again, in his usual tone. "I do not know, but I smelled the same thing with the gifts you have given me. I thought he would be a worthy last sacrifice."

Oh wait, things _could _get better. They were going to sacrifice him—now. Sam wasn't usually this cynical. Obviously Dean was wearing off on him.

"No." the priest's voice had changed again. "He shall make a worthy host."

"But master, I thought _I-_" the voice had changed back to normal. What were they doing, trading control of his body? The priest cut himself off.

"You dare question me?" the priest snapped.

"Of course not master. You are right as always." There was a shuffle as the priest moved beside Sam. Surprisingly, the smoke was still there. Part of it's body had disappeared into…

The priest. The demon looked like some kind of messed up IV. The tail end of the demon had stabbed into the priest's wrist along a vein.

Sam wasn't sure what was worse—getting sacrificed or being possessed. Luckily he had read some about possessions when he had stayed at Bobby's for a week. In order for the demon to possess you, it had to find a weakness. So he just had to stay strong and it couldn't get in.

The priest actually hissed. "You try to defy me young one?"

"Go away." Sam growled.

"Cut him." The priest ordered. Sam didn't even see the knife as it flashed down on his bare stomach. He did feel the pain as it flooded his body. The drug had allowed feeling back in his body while clouding his mind. Not the best situation to try and hold out on a powerful demon. Instead, Sam focused all his energy on the demon, watching as it shimmered as if on its own wind.

"You cannot hold out forever." The demon-priest growled. Suddenly the demon lunged, covering Sam's face with its blackness. For a second his mind weakened in fear but he quickly let the fear go—the demon couldn't do anything except suffocate him and that seemed a little counterproductive. The black smoke oozed over his face, searching for any kind of weakness. When it couldn't find any, it drifted down Sam's arm, leaving almost cat-like scratch marks down his arm.

Abruptly his wrist erupted in pain. Sam gasped and looked down to see the demon doing the same thing to him that it had done to the priest. It was in his wrist. It spread back up his arm, deepening the cuts already there.

_Open your mind to me Sam_. Oh even better now. It was speaking to his mind. Sweat broke out on his forehead and his skin was flushed with heat. Chills raced up and down his body. And now he was starting to detox from the drugs they had been pouring into his system. He really hoped his dad and Dean got here soon.

"Go away." He panted out, pushing past the pain, focusing his mind on an image of a wall. The book he had read had said that sometimes visualizing what he wanted would help him focus and to not have any weakness.

_You can't block me out forever_, the demon repeated.

"Watch me." Sam growled.

"How has no one noticed this place before?" Dean whispered as they got out of the car. An old church loomed before them, covered by overgrown weeds. The windows were all brand new though, and the one at the front was a panther.

"No one was looking for it. Now shush." Bobby told him, pulling his gun out. "I'm going to go around back; you and your dad are taking the front. You're also going in first. Got all the guns?"

Dean nodded. He dumped a duffle bag full of more guns at the door, in case they needed more. He already had two guns on him, extra bullets lining every pocket he had. His dad moved up beside him as Bobby snuck around back.

"Ready?" John asked. Now that they were at the door, they could hear voices, but they couldn't make out what they said. He thought he heard Sam say something, but he couldn't be sure. Dean took a deep breath and nodded, putting his gun up.

Sam wasn't really aware of what was happening around him. He had narrowed his vision down, cutting off any distractions that might break his concentration. The pain was getting worse. He was pretty sure they had cut him more, but he wasn't positive. Even with all his focus, his concentration was straying. His body was wearing down and couldn't hold up much longer. The demon knew it too.

_Your body is weary with pain and drugs. You know I will win. Give in now._

Later, Sam would blame his next action on his state of mind. What he did next was completely insane. He turned his head to the side, where part of the black smoke lingered, and exhaled strongly.

"Shoo." He told it. The reaction was immediate. The head priest yelled something about disrespect or blasphemy, or something and he grabbed a knife, clearly going to slit Sam's throat. The demon roared in Sam's head, breaking through Sam's pain and the fog in his mind. Blistering heat radiated up his arm and throughout his body.

And miraculously, at the same time, the doors to the church burst open, revealing his dad and Dean.

Even with Dean's hyped up instincts, there was still a lot to take in. nine red-robed men were kneeling, looking up at the altar in disbelief. Another one in a red robe, who Dean instantly recognized as the head priest had a knife in his hand and was headed towards Sam. And around Sam…Dean's heart thudded loudly in his chest.

Around Sam was demon smoke. It was puffing up, like a territorial cat.

And then Dean finally found Sam. His even from the distance they were, Dean could tell Sam was not okay. He had cuts all along his bare chest and stomach, along with scratches up the side of his arm. Sweat was pouring off of him and his face was flushed with heat. The way he was breathing didn't seem right either.

Still, Dean was instantly drawn to the priest who was going after Sam with a knife. He raised his gun and heard another go off at the same time as his. The priest flew backwards, dead before he hit the ground. Instantly all of the other red-robed priests jumped into action, crying out their defiance.

"Dean, get your brother, go!" John yelled, fending off attacks by the priests. Dean grabbed the holy water and the salt and maneuvered his way to Sam. Just before he reached him, someone stepped into his path, about to dish out a mighty punch. It was cut short though, when a hand grabbed the man's shoulder and threw him to the ground. Bobby appeared behind him.

"Go Dean." Bobby said with a nod. Dean finally made it up to the altar, quickly throwing the holy water. Sam screamed, like he was possessed. Dean's heart started thudding again. What if he was? Then he noticed that the demon was actually attached to Sam. He had never seen anything like it before. Dean looked back at Sam, but Sam didn't seem to see him.

"Bobby!" Dean called. Bobby was at his side in a second. "How do we get him off? I've never heard of anything like this before." he said desperately. He just wanted to get Sammy and get out of here.

Bobby looked dazed, then snapped out of it. "Try pouring salt where they're attached. If it's going to act like a leech, treat it like one."

Dean threw the salt at Sam's wrist. It killed him to hear Sam cry out in pain again, but this time the demon reacted too, instantly curling in on itself. Dean poured more salt and the demon finally released his grip on Sam.

"Keep it distracted Dean!" Bobby yelled over the commotion of guns firing and punches being thrown. Bobby quickly started the exorcism ritual as Dean threw salt and holy water at it. With an unholy screech, the black smoke burst into flames and vanished. Without a word, Bobby turned to help John and Dean began picking the locks on the chains that held his brother to the altar.

"Hold on Sam, I've almost got you." Dean muttered

"No…I won't let you." Sam whispered. Whatever was wrong with him was making him delirious.

"Sam, the demons gone. Don't worry." Dean said worriedly, pausing long enough to run his hands through Sam's hair. The action seemed to call him down, but the look in Sam's eyes was too distant for Dean's liking. Dean let his fingers go to Sam's throat, waiting impatiently to feel the pulse there. What he found was an erratic pulse, first slowing and then quickening. It wasn't a good sign. Dean hurried to finish the job.

When he finally got Sam free, he quickly picked Sam up. Sure, Sam had grown a lot in the last year, but Sam was still small enough to be carried.

"Dean, get Sam out of here now. We'll have to see what's wrong when we get out of here. People were sure to have heard a commotion." John said, appearing beside Dean.

"The cult?" Dean said, not bothering to look. He already knew what had happened to them. Sure enough, his dad gave him a look. They were all dead. Dean didn't ask twice and got him and his brother the hell out of there.

Dean automatically got in the back, laying Sam across the seats and resting his head on Dean's lap. Sam mumbled something and made a weak attempt to push him away but Dean tried to ignore it. Sam wasn't aware of what was going on. If he was, Dean knew Sam would need him. The doors opened and John and Bobby slid in. They pulled out of the property just as the church erupted in flames.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you all for being so patient! I'll try and update more often now that I've got my time management skills down (which mostly consist of procrastination). Hope you enjoy the story! Remember to review :)

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"We'll pick up your car and come back for my truck later." John said. He picked something out of the duffel bag between them and handed it back to Dean. "Here, wrap that around his stomach and see if you can get the bleeding stopped."

Dean tried to get the shirt to wrap around Sam's whole upper body, but some of the cuts were still left exposed. He couldn't be exactly sure about the seriousness of the wounds in the dark, but at least a couple of them were probably going to have stitches.

Sam's body was shaking with chills. He had a fever, that much Dean could tell. He didn't know _why _though. He didn't know what they had done to Sammy, and with Sam down for the count, they wouldn't know.

They made it to Bobby's in record time. Dean didn't even remember Bobby getting out he was so focused on Sam. He had begun to toss and turn in his uneasy sleep and had started muttering things Dean couldn't make out. Even sick Sam's mind didn't give him a rest from nightmares.

When the car pulled to a stop, Dean gathered Sam in his arms again. His dad opened the door for him and Bobby was already in the living room, getting the couch set up, the first aid kit sitting on a nearby table. Dean carefully laid Sam on the couch. He tried to wake Sam up a little, but he got no response.

"We can't give him drugs anyway, until we know what's causing the fever." Bobby said gently when Dean looked crestfallen. "He could have drugs in his system and its best not to mess with that."

Dean cleaned off the blood that covered Sam's chest while John sterilized a needle and Bobby got alcohol to run over the wounds. It was probably better that Sam wasn't awake for this part. Anya watched fearfully from the edge of the room.

Sam stirred a little when they started stitching up his wounds, but the lack of response was unnerving to everyone in the room. In the end, out of the six chest wounds, three had to be stitched. The claw marks on his arms were washed out, but the skin was too torn for stitching. Instead they wrapped the entire arm, deciding to let it heal on its own. Luckily the bleeding had finally stopped.

When Dean took Sam's temperature he was alarmed to see it sore to 102. Dean grabbed a washcloth and cold water. He didn't want to have to dunk Sam in ice cold water when they had just got him bandaged up, but he would if the fever didn't go down.

Bobby and John got the boys' room arranged with anything they would possible need before Dean brought Sam upstairs to their room. He pulled a chair up to the bed, ready to stay up all night to watch Sam. John and Bobby, rather then try and move Dean, let him be, and headed back downstairs.

The door creaked open a little and Dean looked up to see Anya poke her head into the room. Dean tried to smile, but he was tired and worried and his mouth did little more then twitch. It didn't seem to stop Anya

"Hey, how is he?" she asked quietly.

"No change." Dean sighed. After they had gotten him all cleaned up, he had fallen into a restless sleep. At least, they hoped it was sleep and not the verge of a coma.

"Your dad and Bobby are taking me home, now that it's safe to go home." She said with a small smile. "I just wanted to thank you and Sam. You saved my life."

"What about Anna? What are you going to tell people?"

"Your dad found where they were all buried—out back behind the church. I'm sure the cops have already found the bodies." Anya said, tears leaping to her eyes. She wiped them away furiously. Dean knew that if they had met under better circumstances, he would have liked her a lot.

"I'm sorry about Anna." He told her softly. She smiled shyly at him.

"Me too. I hope Sam gets better." Anya said. "See ya." She gave him a small wave and then disappeared out the door, shutting it behind her.

"He will." Dean said to no one. A few minutes later, he heard Bobby's car start up and disappear down the driveway. A few minutes later, Dean joined Sam in a restless sleep.

Sam felt disoriented when he woke up. He wasn't sure where he was exactly, and something felt off about his body. He blinked his eyes furiously, making them focus on the surroundings around him. The last thing he had remembered was…

The demon. He had been an idiot and pissed it off. Then it was just a haze of pain. Was he dead then?

No, he definitely wasn't dead. He could hear his heartbeat, even if he couldn't really feel his body. And now that his mind was working a little better, he could tell that he was at Bobby's. So Dad and Dean had gotten there in time. They must have taken him back to Bobby's to patch up his wounds. As for his body? Sam looked down. _Well that would explain it,_ Sam thought.

He was looking down at his body. But he wasn't dead. He could see his chest rise and fall, and his heartbeat was still thudding in his ears. Maybe he was just resting deeply? He wasn't really sure. Just in case, he needed to alert Dean that something was wrong.

"Dean." Sam said, seeing him asleep, half his body bent awkwardly on the bed and the other half seated on a chair next to the bed. "Dean, come on man, wake up."

Groggily Dean woke up. He looked eagerly at Sam's body, but when he saw there wasn't a change, his face fell.

"Dean, over here." Sam said again. Dean's head whipped around and his eyes darted between Sam's body and Sam's spirit.

"Sam?" he asked in disbelief.

"Who else dumb ass?" Sam said with a roll of his eyes.

"What are you doing out of your…body?" Dean ended it in more of a question. He watched Sam's chest rise and fall out of the corner of his eyes, just to make sure.

"Don't worry I'm still breathing." Sam said, trying to reassure him. "And, I don't know, I'm a little…lost right now." Sam told him hesitantly.

"Well, get back in your body. It's not safe outside of it. They're reapers and demons out there." Dean snapped.

Sam snorted. Yeah, like he _wanted _to be here right now. "I would if I could Dean. I don't really know what's going on." Suddenly Sam felt faint, which just confused him more. How could he feel faint if he didn't have a body right now? But wait. He _did _have a body. He just wasn't in it right now. Sam tore his gaze from Dean to his body as the feeling washed over him again, making him feel light headed.

"Oh look. I'm not breathing." Sam said pleasantly, dazed beyond understanding. He stumbled as he tried to get to his body (how could a spirit lose its balance exactly?).

"Shit Sam!" Dean cried, jumping up and starting staring at the body. "You have to get back in your body!"

"Don't just stand there!" Sam yelled back. "Save me or something!" he reached his body and put a hand on his chest, pushing down. "Oop." Apparently that was all it took as he slipped back in his body. Unfortunately, it didn't start his breathing again. Dean leapt into action once Sam disappeared, starting the chest compressions and breathing for Sam. After a few times, Dean was able to pick up a pulse again. He sighed, relieved, and slid back into his chair. They were in for a long night.

When his dad got back, Dean told him what had happened with Sam. Both John and Bobby had been alarmed and decided that somebody had to watch Sam at all times. When Dean asked why Sam had appeared right before he had stopped breathing, it was Bobby that answered him.

"My best guess?" Bobby started. "His body knew what was coming and survival instincts kicked in. while his body couldn't wake up, it knew his spirit could. So it kicked him out and sent him to get help."

Dean and John started at Bobby. "That's crazy Bobby."

"Hey, I said it was a best guess." Bobby muttered as he followed them upstairs.

Dean had fallen asleep on the other bed while John watched over Sam when Sam woke up again. He had the same feeling of being disoriented and he already knew he wasn't in his body again.

"Oh this can't be good." Sam muttered. He looked around and spotted his dad, who was cleaning a gun. "Hey dad." Sam ventured. He wasn't sure how he would react. John jumped and had a gun sitting beside him up and aimed at Sam in a second. Sam froze, really hoping his dad wouldn't shoot him. The spirits they shot didn't seem to enjoy it, and Sam doubted he would.

"Sam!" John exclaimed, his eyes immediately strayed to Sam's body, checking to make sure Sam was still breathing.

"Yeah I'm still breathing…for now." Sam grumbled darkly.

"Bobby thinks this is your body trying to warn us that something's about to happen." John offered.

"Oh that's just great. So every time this happens I'm about to die?" Sam snapped. He was tired of all of this happening. He just wanted to go to sleep and stay asleep for the next day without having to worry about his body not breathing.

"'Sup?" Dean asked groggily. He sat up and followed John's eye line to see Sam standing beside his body. "I swear to God dude, if you stop breathing again…"

"You'll what? Kill me?" Sam ventured with a smile. The faint feeling rushed over Sam and he stumbled again. "Too late." He choked out. He touched his body again and vanished from John and Dean's view.

John immediately started the chest compressions. Once again, after a few times, Sam's heart kicked back in and Sam settled into a more peaceful sleep.

"Dad, if this keeps up, we need to take him to a hospital." Dean said worriedly. While the fever hadn't gone down at all, it hadn't gone up. They had changed the bandages about an hour ago, and his arm looked like it had picked up an infection anyway, even though they had washed everything out with alcohol.

"I know, but even I can't come up with a story for this one." John said, watching Sam carefully for any sign of change. "Plus if they ever found out how long we kept him here before taking him to a hospital, we'll start getting investigated for child endangerment. We'll just have to watch him carefully."


	7. Chapter 7

**I told you guys I'd try and update sooner! I was settling down to do some more studying when I decided to be nice and give you an early update. I hope you all enjoy! :)

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Sam gave them another day to watch over him like a hawk before he made his next move. Dean had just taken over for his dad since the guy was practically asleep on the job. He had been settling in for the next couple hours when he heard it—a slight moan came from Sam's bed.

Dean's head jerked up, watching Sam's face. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyelids tightened, then relaxed again.

"Come on Sammy, you gotta open them." Dean coaxed. He grabbed Sam's hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

"I swear to God, if I open my eyes and I'm not in my body, I'm never going back in." Sam croaked out.

"Don't worry dude, it's your body this time." Dean said with a smile. Sam's eyelids fluttered, then opened all the way.

"Jesus, can that light be any brighter?" Sam asked, using his other hand to shield his eyes. Neither Sam nor Dean drew back the hands that were clasped. Dean looked at the light, but didn't think it was that bright. In fact, it seemed kinda dull to him.

"How are you feeling?" Dean asked instead.

"Like someone is trying to drill a way into my head." Sam winced. Concerned, Dean got up and turned off the light. Sam seemed to relax a little, but he was still tense. "My arm is killing me. What did you do to it?" he asked, looking at the bandages.

"We were hoping you could tell us." John said from the doorway. "Welcome back to the world of the living." John flinched and added, "Literally."

"At what part did you come in?" Sam asked. His voice was strained. Dean automatically felt his forehead and was surprised to see that the fever was still there. Maybe not as strong as before, but definitely still alarmingly high.

"About the part where everyone was going after you. That demon was all puffed up like a pissed off cat and the priest was out for your blood dude." Dean tried to make light of the situation, but his heart still pounded at how close they had come to losing Sammy. If they had only been one second later… "What did you do to make them so mad?"

Sam flinched. "They had me drugged up, so I blame all my actions on the drugs." Sam protested. John and Dean waited patiently. "I may have blown the demon away from me and told it to shoo." He said meekly. Dean burst out laughing and even John cracked a smile.

"You did not." Dean got out. Sam gave him a small smile.

"I did. In my defense, that priest was crazy before that."

"Do you know what kind of drug they gave you?" John asked, effectively bringing the mood back to serious. Sam shook his head, then winced and paused before he continued.

"I don't know. It messed with my mind and my body. I felt like I couldn't move." Dean noticed how white Sam's face got and realized Sam was _scared_. Scared of not being able to move…of being trapped in his own body. Dean realized how horrible that would be to any hunter.

"How often did they give it to you?"

"Time passed…differently. It was hard to keep track of. My best guess is every couple hours. Straight into the neck." He said, absently rubbing the bruised area. They had noticed it, but hadn't been sure what it was from. Dean bristled at the idea of anyone injecting so many drugs into his brother. "Right before the ritual though, they gave me a different drug. I could feel everything, but it was like it attacked my mind. It hurt so bad I couldn't even think about moving. When it wore down, it wasn't as painful, but there was this fog in my mind and it made it difficult to think."

John nodded thoughtfully. "That's what all this sickness is. Your body is trying to get rid of all the drugs that got put in it."

"They certainly could have gone a little lighter with the dosages." Sam groaned, moving a hand to his forehead. Dean grabbed the washcloth and dunked it in the cold water he had been using to try and get rid of the fever. He placed it over Sam's forehead and Sam smiled gratefully at him.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"The drug's effects never really wore off before they poured more into my system. I thought they were going to overdose me."

Dean tried to contain his anger and guilt. He should have protected Sammy from all this. He should have never had to deal with all this…

John nodded again. "Well, until these drugs get out of your system, we can't give you anymore. Sorry Sam."

"Rather get rid of them now then over the next couple weeks." Sam said weakly. Dean knew he was in more pain then he let on.

"You're exhausted. Try getting more sleep. Hopefully your little spirit walkings are over now." John said before he turned and left the room.

"He's right. You look like shit." Dean offered. It got the reaction he expected—a small smile at the edge of Sam's lips.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

The next day was the worst day for everyone occupying Bobby's house. Sam was in pure misery—his head was pounding horribly and it made it hard for him to focus on anything. Loud noises and any light irritated him. He tried to hold back, but Sam was on edge all the time and snapped easily. He tried to just go to sleep and wait it out, but after sleeping for a day and a half, his body was tired of sleep.

John, Bobby, and Dean all tried to be patient with him, but it was difficult. Sam snapped at them if they accidently left the door open and the hallway light came into his room. He snapped when they accidently kicked the chair, or even turned a _page _too loudly. Everyone wished that they could just give him pills to knock him out, but it was the one thing they couldn't do. Finally John got so frustrated he threatened to knock Sam out with his own hands if he didn't shut up. It settled Sam down for a little bit, but even he was half considering the idea just to get away from his headache.

It didn't help that his arm was paining him too. The wound had started to heal, but it was a very slow process. There was so much wrong with his body that it didn't know what to do with itself. They had to change the bandage early a couple of times because Sam moved wrong and reopened the wound.

The only good news they had was that Sam's fever was starting to go down. It was still a little high, hovering around 100, but it was a good sign. When Dean could talk Sam into it, he would put a cool washcloth on his forehead. Sam could only tolerate it for a certain amount of time before his headache would tell him enough was enough.

Finally around nine, Sam fell into a restless sleep. He tossed and turned, waking at the slightest noise. After soothing Sam back to sleep for the tenth time, Dean snuck out of the room to see his dad watching him from the doorway.

"Do you think he's getting any better?" Dean asked quietly as he shut the door behind him. No doubt it had woken Sam back up, but Dean was having a hard time staying around Sam for long periods of times. He hated to see him in so much pain.

"The drugs should be out of his system soon. That'll take care of the headache and his sensitivity to everything."

"And the arm wound? It's not healing nearly as fast as it should and it's getting a red color around it. What if it gets infected?" Dean asked urgently.

John sighed. "We'll just have to play it by ear." He answered, hating what he was saying. They should have gotten Sam to the hospital right away. He shouldn't have had to go through all of this. Dean glowered, not happy with the answer, but opened the door and walked back in. Sure enough, Sam was awake and blinking blurrily.

"Where did you go?" he asked quietly.

"Got you a glass of water." Dean lied as he pulled a glass up off the floor. Truthfully, he had gotten it about a half hour ago, when Sam had first fallen asleep, but he was hatefully relying on the pain to mess with Sam's mind. It worked though.

"Thanks." Sam said, accepting the glass of water. When he handed it back, Dean noticed his hand was shaking. "Dean, don't worry. It'll be fine. You just have to give it time." Even his voice shook. Dean frowned and glared at Sam.

"Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Don't worry, I don't either." Sam said, laying back down and flopping a hand over his eyes. Dean affectionately ruffled Sam's hair, hoping to distract him for even just a second.

"Try and get some more sleep, okay?" Dean told him. He felt Sam relax under his hand, but when he mentioned sleep, Sam tensed again.

"I can't." Sam said, his voice even more strained. Dean frowned.

"Why not?" Sam just pursed his lips and stayed silent. "Sam, come on. Why can't you sleep?"

"It's nothing okay?" Sam snapped. He turned over, pulling away from Dean. Dean's frown deepened. Sam wasn't this touchy even when he woke up screaming from a nightmare. Then a light bulb turned on in Dean's head.

"Are the nightmares back?" Dean asked quietly.

"Never went away." Sam's reply was so quiet that Dean almost missed it.

"Are they getting worse?"

For a second, Dean didn't think Sam was going to say anything. Then he looked over his shoulder at Dean, his eyes serious. "Just…don't leave, okay?" Sam almost looked…frightened.

"'Course not. Where would I go?" Dean asked with a weak smile. Sam didn't frighten easily. He wondered what was visiting Sam in his dreams. Dean's attempt to soothe him didn't seem to help at all, but he did settle down. Eventually his breathing evened out and he recognized that Sam was asleep. He sighed and leaned back, grabbing up a car magazine Bobby had leant him.

Dean was startled out of his reading when he heard Sam taking in gasps of air. Sam's whole body was tense and sweat formed over his forehead. The fever had obviously come back full force. Dean went to go check Sam's arm wounds, but Sam swatted his hand away. Dean looked up at Sam, surprised. For one terrifying second, Dean thought he saw Sam's eyes go black. When he blinked and looked again though, his eyes were the same hazel green, filled with fear at something Dean couldn't see.

"No, no, no." Sam was muttering. Dean had a suspicion that, even though Sam's eyes were open, he wasn't actually _seeing _anything.

"Sam." Dean said, trying to draw Sam out of whatever nightmare he was trapped in. "Sam!" he yelled louder. Sam's eyelids blinked furiously, and then his eyes connected with Dean. His whole body shuddered as he took a deep breath in to calm himself. Half way through his breath though, he froze. His eyes flew open.

"Not a nightmare." He whispered. "Dean, it's real!" he said louder.

"What Sam? What's real?" Dean was scared. Sam wasn't acting like himself. Maybe it was the fever or maybe it was something all new.

"The demon." Sam gasped, his forehead etched in pain. "Dean, its still tied to me somehow! It's still here!"

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**I apologize (kinda) for the nasty cliffhanger I left you all on. What can I say? I've always been a tease :P**


	8. Chapter 8

**Yay I didn't leave you hanging forever! I'm about to take off for The Last Airbender (whoo!) soon and thought I'd make you all as happy as I am right now. We're starting to wind down and come to the end, probably two or three more chapters. Hope you enjoy! Remember to review :)

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It was too much to take in. it was tied to him somehow? That wasn't possible. It had to be the fever, or the dream. Maybe he didn't realize that he was awake.

"Dean, come on, do something!" Sam panted. His fingers were twitching, even though Sam had his fist clenched, almost like he was trying to stop it from twitching. "I can't hold him off much longer!"

"I-I don't understand Sam!" Dean said helplessly.

"Ugh!" Sam grunted in frustration and pain. His back arched and his eyes squeezed shut. After a moment he took a gulping breath in. he opened his eyes and looked down. "The wound Dean! You said it wasn't healing. Did you wash it out with holy water?" he gasped as more pain flooded his body.

Dean's mind was still trying to catch up with Sam's predicament. He just opened and closed his mouth wordlessly.

Sam groaned and decided to take a new approach. Adopting his best dad voice, he snapped out an order. "Dean! Wash the damn thing with holy water!" it worked. Dean jumped into action, grabbing holy water out of the bag that he always kept under his bed, just in case. He quickly cut through the bandage that covered Sam's arm. Several times, Sam's arm twitched, like he was going to push Dean away from him.

Dean tried not to flinch when he looked at the wounds. They hadn't healed at all. They were red and new blood was trickling out of them. Either Sam had opened them while he was thrashing or…

Or something else had opened them again. Only one way to find out.

Dean tipped the holy water, letting it splash over the wounds. Sam cried out again as the skin touched by the holy water sizzled. Dean watched in horror as he poured it up and down the wound. Wisps of black smoke wafted out of the wound and hovered just above Sam's arm. As soon as all of the black smoke was out of the wound, Sam went limp. Dean recognized that he was unconscious, but he watched worriedly to see if his chest rose and fell. It did, but his breaths were short gasps. Once he was sure his brother was still alive, he turned his attention to the demon. He was a little late though. When he looked down at the demon, it was moving at him.

Dean scrambled out of the chair and started to back away, even as the demon continued to move towards him.

_He's mine…_Dean heard the words hissed and looked at the demon in shock. Demons couldn't speak without a host. They typically couldn't hold a _form_ without a host. When Sam had said this thing was powerful, he wasn't lying.

Dean's back hit the wall. He couldn't move but the demon was still coming for him. As long as it wasn't anywhere near Sam, he was willing to take the risk that he was about to die.

The door slammed open and his dad walked in, his eyes alert for danger. He must have heard Sam yelling. He took in Sam, lying unconscious on the bed, and then Dean, backed into a corner by an unformed demon. John didn't think—he started reciting.

After the first couple words, the demon growled and turned on John. Dean lunged for his bag and pulled out the salt, throwing it at the demon. It screeched and turned towards Dean. Clearly this demon was not happy. Its form shivered and when it became solid, both Dean and John were shocked. It had a human form. The demon could make its own form. That was all the time they got to think. Before either could do anything, the demon tipped his head and Dean and John slammed into the wall, cutting off John's exorcism.

For a moment, the demon did nothing. It took in his form, his surroundings. Then it looked back up at Dean and John. "This form really sucks, but it doesn't hold back my powers, or my speech. Makes me more vulnerable though. But hey, what can you do?" He said with a shrug.

"If you have a form, why did you try to possess Sam?" Dean grunted. Whatever force was holding him against the wall was pushing painfully on his lungs, making it hard to talk. The demon grinned and looked over at the unconscious boy on the bed. Dean immediately regretted mentioning Sam.

"Why just stick with one power when you could have two?" the demon answered. It just confused Dean more, but the demon didn't give Dean a chance to ask another question. "And _you_," he continued, looking at Dean. "Have been nothing but a thorn in my side. I spent an hour trying to get into his mind and do you know what he thought of while holding out on me?" the demon glared at him. "You. Memories of when you had saved him before and belief that you would save him again. No matter what I told him, he wouldn't give in."

Dean couldn't help but smirk. That was his Sam. Holding out on a demon when no one else would have been able to. The pressure holding him to the wall increased, making Dean inhale sharply in pain.

"Don't smirk at me boy." The demon snarled. "He held out on me once, but in his weakened state, he doesn't stand a chance, especially when he finds out you're dead." The demon pulled a knife from his back (where did he store that when he was using his smoke form?) and advanced on Dean.

Dean tried desperately to move. This was not how he envisioned himself dying. He thought he would go down fighting, not pinned to a wall. He pushed back against the wall but it was to no avail. He locked eyes with the grinning demon. He pulled back his arm, getting ready to stab Dean. Dean braced himself, trying to get ready for the pain.

"No!" Dean heard the shout, then saw a blur. The pressure holding him and his dad to the wall released them, dropping them to the ground. Dean looked hurriedly for his brother, but the bed was empty. He heard a grunt and Sam went flying past him, smacking into a wall and sticking there. Just when Dean got his balance back, the pressure renewed, throwing him back against the wall next to his brother. Dean looked for his dad but John was no where to be seen. Instead, he looked over at Sam, trying to see how he was holding up. He hadn't thought Sam would have it in him to launch himself at a demon, but apparently he was full of surprises.

Sam's arm was bleeding again, rivers of blood weaving down his arm to drip to the floor. Dean could see something dark trailing down the wall behind Sam's head and realized it was blood. He had hit the wall harder than Dean had expected. He mentally swore; how much more could Sam take before he just collapsed?

"So nice of you to join us Sam." The demon said, sauntering over to them. It was one of the reasons Dean hated demons so much—they were so arrogant. "I have to thank you for letting me come along for the ride." He said, flashing his pure white teeth in a grin at Sam.

"Go to hell." Sam panted. Dean saw Sam tense and realized that the demon was putting more pressure on his brother. Sam whimpered weakly, his eyes glassy and unfocused. He wasn't as healed as Dean had thought.

"Been there, done that." The demon said with a shrug.

"Leave him alone you bastard!" Dean yelled. The demon turned his eyes to Dean, just like he wanted. Where was his father? He should be here, helping them. The demon must have thought so too, his eyes taking on an evil look.

"Who's going to stop me, your father? He seems to have run the second he could and left you two here for me to play with."

"He's going to kill you, you son of a bitch." Dean snapped. He didn't doubt it; he just wished Dad would hurry up. The only reason Sam was still upright was because the demon was holding him up.

"I'd like to see that happen." The demon snorted, clearly amused, as he moved towards Sam. Apparently Dean's distraction wasn't as good as he hoped. Sam blinked, looking confused. The demon put his hand out, only centimeters from touching Sam. Sam whimpered again and his back arched, like the demon was pulling Sam's chest forward.

"Yeah, well I'd like to see it happen too." John said opening the door. He tried to ignore the sound of Sam, obviously in pain. He spread his arms out. "Come and get me you son of a bitch." He tempted the demon, then darted out of sight before the demon could catch him with his power. The demon growled, turning back to look at the two brothers pinned against the wall, then back to the doorway.

"Don't go anywhere." He said with a smile, patting Sam's cheek. The demon walked out, but as soon as he walked out of the doorway, Sam and Dean dropped to the ground. He looked back, growling again, but if he was doing anything, nothing was happening. John walked back up, flipping off the hallway light. A devil's trap glowed on the floor and ceiling. So _that _was what his dad had been doing.

"Dean, get Sam out of here. Take him to the hospital." John ordered. Dean had gathered Sam in his arms the second he could move again. His brother had barely even moved. "Tell them he was just getting over the flu and he went out on a walk. Some kids beat him up." Dean picked Sam up, feeling déjà vu all over again. He sidled out of the room, careful to stay away from the devil's trap. The last thing he wanted to do was put Sammy back under the demons power. The demon watched Sam almost hungrily. John stepped between the demon and Dean.

The demon laughed. "Come on, you really think a devil's trap can hold me? One of the most powerful demons?"

"No, but it'll hold you long enough for us to send you to Hell." Bobby growled. The demon laughed again.

"You can't banish me! Your silly exorcisms don't work on one as powerful as me."

"No one said we were sending you back down under. No, we created a special prison for you." John said, pulling out a crystal from a wooden box. "See, demons as powerful as you have this one weakness—they can be trapped within the earth. So what better place to trap you then somewhere we can monitor?"

Bobby started chanting a ritual in Latin. The demon froze, the arrogant smirk he had been wearing falling quickly from his face. His form started to shimmer. Sometimes it almost looked like black smoke was pooling out of the body, but then the form would snap back into focus and all that was left was a pissed off demon.

"You can't do this." The demon said, his eyes flashing black in his anger.

"Looks like we already are." John said, adopting the demon's smirk to throw back at him.

"I'll break free from my prison one day, and you will pay for this. You, your family, and anybody you've ever loved." The demon's tone was a promise. John hid his own fear. He would just have to make sure it never happened.

Bobby paused as he finished the first part of the ritual. The demon, no longer powerful enough to hold his human form, had fully shifted back into his smoke form. it shifted around the edges of the devil's trap, searching for a way out. Bobby hurried and started the second part of the ritual, the part that would bind the demon within the crystal. If the demon broke through the devil's trap before they finished the ritual, none of them would live more than a couple minutes. He looked up as he completed the last words

With a screech, the demon was sucked into the crystal. The crystal flared with light, then died down, looking like nothing more than a regular rock. As John bent down to lock it in a magically protected box, he heard words whispered into the air.

_Don't forget my promise John Winchester. I _will _be back and I _will _get what I want._

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**I realize that I should probably specify that I know basically nothing about drugs, hopsitals, illnesses, or what happens when people detox from drugs. So don't believe everything you read :P  
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	9. Chapter 9

**I am SO sorry about the long wait for the next update. My laptop has been broken, blocking me from all of my work. So in order to start begging your forgiveness, I combined two chapters into one to give you all an extra long update (and guess what? It doesn't end in a cliff hanger :P). So I hope everyone comes back and enjoys this! Only a couple more chapters left :)**

**Please review and whatnot! **

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Dean pulled up to the hospital and hurriedly pulled his brother out of the car. Through the ten minute car ride, Sam had barely moved and he hadn't spoken at all. A couple of times, Dean had leaned over and rested a hand on Sam's chest, just to make sure it was still moving.

"Please, someone help me!" he called as he carried his brother into the emergency room. A nurse was the first one to reach him, feeling for Sam's vitals before the stretcher even got to them.

"What happened?" a doctor asked hurriedly as she helped situate Sam on a stretcher.

"He said he was going out for a walk, but when he didn't come back after a couple of hours, we went searching for him and found him like this." Dean told them frantically. It wasn't exactly the lie his dad had told him to say, but it would work all the same. Hopefully they could bust out of the hospital before anyone asked any questions. "Please, his name is Sam. Is he going to be alright?"

"Breathings weak. Possible broken rib." One of the nurses said.

"Head wound. Still bleeding." Another spouted.

"Fevers high. We need to get it under control."

"Is there anything else I need to know about?" the doctor asked, all while writing notes on his clipboard.

"There might be some drugs in his system. He was just getting over a flu or a cold." Dean said. "Please, I have to know if he's going to be okay."

"I'll send a nurse when we have news." The doctor said absently, going over his notes and examining Sam as they carted him away, leaving Dean standing alone, feeling lost all over again.

A nurse brought Dean insurance papers a short time later. When he finished filling them out, he had to explain that he had called his dad as soon as he found Sam, and he would arrive shortly. He just hoped it was true.

Twenty minutes passed and there still wasn't a sign of Bobby or John. Dean paced the room anxiously. Other people in the room gave him wary looks, careful not to come too close. Finally Sam's doctor emerged from the doorway.

"Family of Sam Masters?" he called. Dean hurried over and the doctor looked at him critically.

"I'm Dean, his brother. My dad should be here soon." He explained impatiently. He just wanted to know if Sam was okay. "Is Sammy okay?"

"Follow me." The doctor said, leading the way down a hallway. Dean hoped he was taking him to see Sam. "We've got him stabilized for right now." He explained as he walked.

"For right now?" Dean's heart sank. That was so not what he wanted to hear.

"Yes. It's going to be touch and go for awhile. Because you alerted us to possible drugs in his system already, we ran a tox screen. Do you know what drugs he was taking?" the doctor stopped in a deserted part of the hallway and turned to look at Dean seriously.

Shit. Whatever the cult had used on Sam was still in his system and the doctor had found it. "No. Sam doesn't really like taking drugs. We gave him some Tylenol when his fever started up…"

"Well it wasn't Tylenol we found in his system. The drugs we found were powerful ones, not over the counter drugs. Only well stocked hospitals carry them. One is used to momentarily paralyze a person. That was the one we found in the greatest quantity. The other one we only found traces of. It's basically like a shot of adrenaline, used to shock the body back into action. It's rarely used anymore though, since it also attacks the brain. If it's used too often, permanent brain damage can occur."

"Sammy doesn't-" Dean started, panicky. If that cult wasn't already dead, he would kill them all himself.

"No, whoever gave it to him didn't give him that much." The doctor said with a pointed look. He wanted to know how the drugs had gotten into Sam's system.

"I don't know how he would have gotten them. Like I said, Sammy doesn't like taking drugs and we're careful about what we let him take."

"Has Sam ever taken illegal drugs?"

That was a shock to _Dean's_ system. "What? No! Sammy's too smart for that."

"Hm." The doctor said, clearly not convinced. "I was also wondering about his wounds. They were a couple of days old at least, and several of them had been stitched up already."

Dean shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal. "The kid is a magnet for trouble. We just moved here not too long ago. We left cause some bully took things too far and pulled a knife on him. My dad was a marine, and he taught us how to stitch up wounds. They weren't giving him any trouble."

"And the arm wound? If I didn't know better, I'd say that he was attacked by an animal."

"Like I said, the kid is a magnet for trouble. He was at a neighbor's house and he was trying to make nice with the cat. The cat was okay with it till he tried to pick it up. It flipped out and scratched him up. That one was just starting to heal…" Dean said, though when he said just, he meant it.

"Was just starting to get infected is more like it. We cleaned it again and got it patched up for the most part. We're feeding him drugs through an IV to help fight the infection."

"Other than that, how is he? You said you had him stabilized for right now." Dean prodded, trying to get away from the awkward questions.

The doctor sighed, recognizing Dean's distraction for what it was. "Yes, for right now. His body is still trying to get rid of the rest of the drugs in his system. Until they are completely gone, we can't give him any pain medication."

"Is he in pain?" Dean asked worriedly.

"Right now he's on the verge of a coma, so we can't be sure. If he does slip into a coma, I'm almost positive it will be short and that he will wake up. Sometimes people slip into comas when their bodies have taken a lot of damage. It's their way of telling the person that they need rest to recover."

"But there's a chance he won't wake up?"

"With any coma victim, especially those with head wounds, that's always a risk. Like I said though, I'm fairly confident Sam will wake up. It's just a matter of when. As for the other wounds acquired from Sam's, er, _walk_, he has a broken rib and a couple bruised ones. The head wound wasn't too serious, and we don't expect a concussion if he wakes soon. A couple of his previous stitches popped, which we did back up. He's still running a high fever, which we're working on bringing down, but with all of his other injuries, it's going to take time."

"When can I see him?" Dean asked. He needed to see Sam _now _before he punched a wall. Since he couldn't kill the cult, maybe he would kill that demon, assuming his dad hadn't already.

"Right now." The doctor said with a smile, nodding to the room a couple doors down. "You have to understand though, he is hooked up to a lot of machines. He was having trouble breathing, so we put a tube down his throat, just in case. As soon as he shows signs of strengthening, we can take it out, even if he's not awake."

"Thanks doc." Dean said before hurrying into Sam's room.

In truth, it was probably the best that Sam had looked in the last couple days. Yes, he was still a little pale, and yes, he was still lying unnaturally still, but the hospital room was kept cool to help counteract the fever, so his fever wasn't as high as before. Plus he had finally achieved proper care of his arm. Dean quickly snagged the spare chair in the room and pulled it up to the bed. He tussled Sam's hair before he sat down, careful not to bump the breathing tube.

"Hey man, doc says that you're on the verge of coma or something like that, and I wanted you to know that if you need to take that time off, do it. You've been through a lot these last couple days." Dean's voice cracked and absent mindedly he rubbed the top of Sam's hand. "More than you should have."

The only answer Dean got was the beep of the heart monitor. For the most part, it was a steady beep, but sometimes it would take off, spiking high up, before settling back down again for awhile.

"By the way, I never really got to thank you either. You really saved my ass back there." Dean paused and cocked his head, grinning to himself. "I think you got into the wrong sport buddy. You shouldn't be playing soccer. You should go into football. That was an epic tackle."

Dean stopped talking as a nurse walked in. Even in the emotional state he was in, he couldn't help but notice the nurse's appealing figure. Nor could he not help but look down her shirt when she leaned over to check Sam's vitals. She turned to the heart monitor, looking at the feed. She sighed happily.

"Oh good, he's finally calmed down." She said, turning back to Sam. "His heartbeat has been sporadic ever since he got here, but it settled down a couple of minutes ago." If that keeps up, we should be able to take the breathing tube out soon."

"Can you tell if he's slipped into a coma yet?" Dean asked anxiously.

"I think Sam's safe from the coma. I think he's just sleeping now." The nurse said with a smile before she walked back out of the room.

"You always were a stubborn ass." Dean muttered. Only Sam would do the exact opposite of what he was told. A noise in the doorway made him look up. "Hey dad." Dean said, a little relieved that someone else was finally here. He didn't think he could do this alone. Bobby filed in behind John. John smiled happily; glad that for right now everyone was safe.

"Hey boys. What's the news on Sammy?"

"The arm wound was infected, but they're giving him stuff for that. One broken rib and two other bruised ones. The head wound wasn't serious. They had to restitch a couple of the wounds. His fever is still a little high, and some of the drugs are still in his system." Dean explained. "We may have to take off quick with this one. The doctor was asking questions about the drugs—I just said I didn't know how he got them."

"And the other wounds?" John asked quietly.

"The chest wounds were from a bully in our last home. We moved cause he was picking on Sam and took it too far. Pulled a knife on him. Then the arm wound is from the neighbor's cat. Sam was holding the cat when it flipped and clawed the shit out of his arm."

John nodded thoughtfully. "Did the doctor say what the drugs were?"

Dean bristled at the thought. "The main one they gave Sam was a paralytic. It's meant to paralyze the body for periods of time. Except they overused it on Sam. The last one they gave him was used to shock his body back into gear again, except even hospitals don't really use it anymore because it tends to attack a person's brain. If it's used too much, it can cause brain damage. Doc said that Sam didn't have enough for that luckily." Dean recognized his father's tense muscles for the rage he was feeling as well. He and his dad were incredibly alike when it came to Sammy—if someone touched him, they usually either got beat up, or they tended to end up dead, depending on what it was. "What about the demon?"

"We don't have to worry about him again." John said confidently. No need to trouble Dean and let him know that it was possible for the demon to escape his prison. Sure, he would need help escaping that prison, but there were people out there who thought that the way to power was through demons. They tended to find out how wrong they were just before they died or became possessed (or both). "Did they say when Sam would wake up?"

"They said that he was just resting right now, letting his body recuperate. They thought he was going to slip into a coma but as soon as I told him to do, the kid evened out into sleep." Dean shrugged. "So I guess whenever his body feels rested."

"What about the breathing tube?" Bobby asked, jerking his chin towards the machine. Just as he said it, the heart monitor went crazy. Dean looked fearfully at Sam's heart beat as it shot up. His doctor and a couple nurses filed into the room, pushing John and Dean out of the way. They called things to each other. The doctor took hold of the breathing tube and began to carefully pull it out. As soon as the tube was completely free, Sam's heartbeat settled down.

"Wha-what exactly just happened?" Dean asked shakily. The doctor walked over to them with a smile.

"Well, we were waiting to make sure Sam's breathing would even out, but Sam made the decision for us. His lungs started trying to breath by themselves and when they couldn't, his body let us know in the best way it could—speeding up the heart rate and alerting us to a problem."

"So he's getting better?" John asked.

"Remarkably fast in fact. I hadn't expected him to recover so quickly."

"Thanks doc." Bobby said when Dean and John both turned to Sam. The doctor nodded before walking out of the room.

"So now we wait." Dean said, taking his seat again and propping his feet up.

"So now we wait." John added, taking a seat as well.

This time when Sam found his way to consciousness, it was different than all the other times. It was quick and came without any warning—one second he wasn't aware of anything-sight, smell, feeling-and then he was aware of it all. For a second, his heartbeat flailed in fear and Sam was overwhelmed, but then his mind caught up and he calmed down. He was awake. Finally. And for the first time in days, Sam felt almost healthy. Weak, tired, and in a little pain, but overall he felt better. There was no presence lurking in the back of his mind, trying to get in control. There wasn't any feeling of drifting, or even better, no feeling of not being attached to his body.

His eyelids fluttered as he forced his eyes open. He was ready to be awake. He had been sleeping for so long that it was a strain just to keep his eyes open. They roamed, taking in his surroundings.

Great. A hospital room. He hated hospitals.

His dad was sleeping on his right side; his head tipped back to lean against the wall and his mouth slightly open. Dean was on his left, his arm thrown haphazardly across the bed (and Sam) and his head leaning on that. Sam thought about joining them in sleep, but he knew Dean would kill him if he didn't wake him up.

Sam pulled his arm out from under the sheet. As he thought, years of training and watching over Sam kicked in, and Dean instantly jerked awake. For a second, he looked groggily around; trying to find the source of what had woken him up. Finally his eyes connected with Sam's face to see his open eyes.

"Hey man, good to see you finally awake." He said. Even though his face was neutral, Sam could see the smile in his eyes. He smiled back.

"You have no idea." He told him. His eyelids fluttered, already exhausted with his short time awake. "Go back to sleep Sam. I'll tell dad you were up when he wakes up." Dean told him gently, ruffling his hair. Sam nodded and closed his eyes, asleep in seconds. Dean's face broke out in a smile and, even though he knew Sam was asleep already, he threaded his fingers through Sam's hair soothingly.


	10. Chapter 10

**My computer is still giving me problems, so I figured that I might as well update while I had the chance! After this there's only the epilouge so enjoy what's left! **

**Read and review and all those silly shenanigans. They may seem pointless to you but they mean the world to me! :)

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It was another hour before John woke up. Dean had gotten impatient and since he knew it was going to be awhile before Sam woke up again, had started tapping out Metallica on the side of the bed. With how sensitive his dad was, he knew it wouldn't be long until his tapping drove his dad out of sleep. He was right.

"If you don't stop tapping on that bed, I'm going to feed you to the next werewolf we meet." His dad said without opening his eyes.

"Well I figured you'd want the good news." Dean said without batting an eyelash. He knew the threat was an idle one.

"The good news being…" John said as he stretched out his cramped neck.

"Sam woke up about an hour ago." Dean said. John smiled as he looked down at Sam.

"That is good news."

"So you're not going to feed me to the next werewolf?" Dean smirked at his dad. His dad looked at him, his face serious, but his eyes sparkling.

"I never said that."

Sam slept for another five hours before his next trip to consciousness. It was Bobby who was watching him then. When Bobby saw that Sam's eyes were open, he put down his car magazine and turned to Sam with a smile.

"Hey tiger, how ya feelin?"

"Like I got hit by a bus. How should I be feeling?" Sam asked good-naturedly.

"Probably about that good. I hear you took a fantastic flight across the bedroom."

Most of the last fight with the demon was a fog to Sam. He remembered waking up and seeing the demon going at Dean. Then there was pain in his head, he snapped at the demon, and then nothing. Sam reached up and rubbed the back of his head. Bandages covered where it hurt the most.

"So that's why my head hurts so bad?"

Bobby frowned a little. "How much do you remember from that fight?"

"Not much. I remember seeing the demon going after Dean, a pain in my head, and talking with the demon. Then nothing." Sam said with a shrug. He winced as it pulled at his sensitive ribs.

"How could you tell it was the demon going after Dean? He had pulled out a human form then." Bobby asked, his frown deepening.

Sam looked up at him, confusion in his eyes. "It just looked black to me. Like demon smoke usually does."

Bobby made a mental note to tell John that tidbit of information. "Well I finally got your dad and brother to go back to my house to take a shower and get a change of clothes. I was surprised their stench didn't wake you up."

Sam snorted. "I bet you argued with them for an hour before they left."

Bobby smirked. "Somethin like that. How 'bout I call your doctor in here so they can check you over." When Sam didn't seem to like the idea, Bobby added, "The sooner they check you out, the sooner you can get out of here."

"Fine." Sam sighed. His face automatically slipped into his world famous puppy dog pout.

"You can try that on your doctor, but that face stopped working on me years ago." Bobby said, and Sam could see his hand twitch, like he was about to smack him upside the head, but then remembered his injuries.

"Whatever you say Bobby."

"I heard the doctors checked you out." Dean said as he walked back into Sam's hospital room. Sam glowered at him from his position on the bed. He had pulled himself up into a sitting position, but only with the help of Bobby. It was the last thing he was going to tell his brother though.

"Yeah and they said that I was staying here until the arm wound started healing completely. Apparently that 'cat' had very dirty claws."

Dean could tell that Sam was less than happy with the lies he had invented for him. "Well how did the doctor say the other injuries were healing?"

"Well the stab wounds from the bully in our last home are almost healed and the stitches can come out. The fever from the flu I had is almost gone. The broken ribs from the kids that just recently beat me up will be fine if I don't move for the next month. Oh, and my favorite part, the drugs that they suspiciously got a hold of, and, for no apparent reason, injected into my body, are completely gone from my system." Sam was still glaring at Dean, but Dean just frowned and looked at the IV lines hooked up to Sam.

"So they finally gave you painkillers?" he asked, watching Sam's face carefully. Sam shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, wincing when he pulled at his ribs.

"Well, no."

"And why the hell not Sam?" Dean snapped, his hand reaching for the call button. He stopped when Sam's hand gripped his wrist. It was his cut up arm, so the grip was weak, but it got the point across.

"I asked not to be on them, okay? I need a break from drugs for awhile." Sam's eyes pleaded with him to understand. It broke Dean's heart to see the fear and pain in his little brother's eyes. He looked away and dropped his hand.

"Yeah, okay, if you think it's for the best Sammy." He muttered. Sam gave him a small smile.

"Thanks man." he closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the bed. "But seriously, could you make me sound any more pitiful? Beat up by kids, attacked by a vicious cat, sick, and then beat up again? All in the last three days?"

"Well you've always been accident prone Sammy boy. We just sped the process up a little bit." Dean smirked.

"You know I'm going to get you for this, right?" Sam asked without opening his eyes.

"Whatever you say." Dean leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on Sam's bed, content for just that moment. "Bitch." Though Sam tried to hide it, he saw the smile bite at the corner of his mouth.

"Jerk."

"You're awake for two hours and already fighting?" John asked good-naturedly, stepping into the room. Sam opened his eyes tiredly, already trying to fight off the exhaustion.

"Not fighting. Just having a conversation." Dean said with a shrug.

"I swear, half the time your conversations are arguments." John said, taking the seat on the other side of Sam's bed.

"What are brothers for?" Sam asked sarcastically, sending a meaningless glare at Dean. Dean just grinned at him.

"Lucky for you, you've got an awesome brother."

Sam mumbled something incoherent but Dean just laughed it off. He got the gist of it.

"I talked to your doctor Sam." John started. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Apparently you and the rest of the world."

"_Anyway_," John said with a look that told Sam he wasn't going to get out of this one. "It looks like we could be here for awhile."

"I thought we just had to wait for the arm wound to heal." Dean frowned, sitting up straight in his chair.

"We do, but the doc says it's healing slower than most wounds. Not to mention, he's looking for any reason to keep Sam in one place to help his ribs heal faster."

Dean turned his frown on his brother. "You lied to me."

Sam sighed tiredly. "I didn't lie. I just…didn't tell the whole truth, which you didn't ask for." He hadn't thought it possible, but Dean's frown deepened.

"Sounds like lying to me still."

"Why don't you get some sleep Sam? We'll talk about it more when you wake up." John said, giving Dean a meaningful look.

"Yeah, okay." Sam said sullenly. He closed his eyes, ending any conversation that Dean thought about starting up. John stood up, jerking his head towards the door at Dean. With one last glare at Sam, Dean stood up and followed his dad out the door.

"You shouldn't be so hard on your brother." John said disapprovingly. Dean managed to halt the snort that almost erupted from his mouth. Him? Being hard on Sam? This was the guy who had made Sam train, even when he had strep throat for a week. Talk about hypocrisy.

"He purposely kept information from me." Dean said, not giving in. john sighed impatiently.

"Because you would freak out like you just did."

"Did you know he's refusing any pain medication? I bet his arm would heal faster if he wasn't in so much pain."

"Dean, you know that's not true. Besides, he refused it for a perfectly legitimate reason. Those drugs that they gave him, they messed with his mind. They made it impossible for him to fight back or defend himself. That's what makes him wary of having any more drugs in his system. He doesn't want to feel like that. Plus, the doctor also advised against starting pain killers. A lot of people who are addicted to drugs don't take any kind of drug after they detox. If they start taking even just pain killers soon after they detox, it gets the body ready for the familiar drugs. They were worried that the pain killers might mess up the healing process." John said seriously, his eyes on Dean. He wanted to make sure Dean understood, so he could help Sam as much as possible. Dean looked up in surprise, and then back down at the ground in shame. It took him awhile to get the right words out.

"Why didn't he tell me?" Dean asked softly.

"Well, probably mostly for the same reason as before—he didn't want to worry you. Plus Sam hates being thought of as weak. You know that." Dean snorted, but kept his thoughts to himself. "Not to mention that Sam is in one of the places he hates the most. He'd do anything to get out of here as soon as possible."

"He does try it enough." Dean said, watching Sam through the window. "I'll talk to him when he wakes up."

"I'm going back to Bobby's for awhile. I'll be back later tonight." John said. Dean wanted to ask what he going to do, but his dad gave him the _look, _the one that said even if Dean asked, he wasn't going to say. So instead, Dean turned around and walked back into Sam's room.

He could instantly tell that Sam wasn't sleeping. His breaths were too short and his eyes were scrunched tightly. Dean could see the pain lines on his forehead. Great, so now he was in too much pain to sleep.

"Look, I'm sorry I snapped at you." Dean said softly as he leaned back in his usual chair. Sam's eyes opened slightly to look at Dean.

"It's fine, really. I've certainly been snapping at you enough lately."

"That's different. You were in pain."

"So were you." Sam replied instantly. Dean blinked at him stupidly. Kid had him there. If Sam was ever in pain, so was Dean. When Dean didn't say anything for awhile, Sam started the conversation again. "How'd you know I wasn't asleep?"

"Sam I learned what you looked like when you were sleeping after the first time you snuck out of the hotel room."

A slight smile played at Sam's mouth. "How old was I?"

"Freaking four. I don't think you ever learned to walk; I think you just started running one day. I thought once I put you to bed you were safe, but I learned fast I was wrong."

"Thanks Dean." Sam said, closing his eyes again. This time Dean recognized it was an actual sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry once again for the lateness! However, this is the last chapter (sad day, right?) so I like to think I was just making the story last longer for all of you! Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Read and review please :)

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It was another four days before Sam was up to any serious movement. Well, Sam had been _trying_ to get out of bed for four days, but it was on the fourth day that the doctor finally agreed to it. Even with the long wait, it was still a strenuous process. By the time that Sam finally got completely stretched, he was exhausted and ended up back in bed, sleeping for half the day.

Still, as soon as Sam woke up, he was ready to move again. This time it was his dad who helped him get out of bed. Sam was just happy to be able to take a shower and change out of his hospital gown. When he got out of the shower, Dean practically pounced on him, asking if he needed help and helping him get up on the bed.

It was another three days before the doctor gave them a definite time that Sam would be released—another two days. The doctor made a hasty retreat while Sam glared daggers at him. By now he was restless and his ribs had healed enough to let him move without too much soreness. After the nurses caught him out of his room for the tenth time, they threatened to handcuff him to the bed. Sam sullenly kept his roams to his room. Dean was pretty sure he had the tiny room memorized and could find his way through it in the dark.

The doctor finally gave up trying to keep Sam in the hospital a day after that. The arm wound had healed fine, with only a thin scar down his arm. The fever had gone away two days ago, and his ribs had healed enough for almost normal activity. The problem was, Sam knew he should be able to leave, and therefore was insufferable. He asked the doctor if he could leave every time he saw him and he pestered anyone in his room.

When his dad left the room after the doctor announced that Sam could leave, Sam got busy unhooking himself from the machines. If a nurse had been around, they certainly would have been freaking out.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" Dean asked as he watched his brother unhook the machines.

"Getting out of here. I'm leaving before they can force me into one of those god forsaken wheelchairs." Sam slid from the bed and grabbed up his duffel bag his dad and Dean had brought him a week ago.

"They're going to start a manhunt for you. Think that some bullies took you or something." Dean idly commented. He ignored the nasty glare Sam sent him.

"That's why you're going to stay here and tell dad I'm waiting at the car."

"Okay, then you really are going to get beaten up or something." Dean said seriously. "I mean, come on Sammy, you have the worst luck possible. Let's not tempt fate. I'm coming with you."

"And how does dad know where we are exactly?"

Dean snorted. "Dad always knows where we are."

Sam sighed. "Fine. Let's go before they come back." Dean made towards the door, but Sam stayed by the bed.

"Are we going?" Dean asked. Sam was still staring at his bag.

"Did dad ever say what happened to that demon?" Sam asked suddenly, catching Dean by surprise.

"Uh, he just said it wasn't a problem anymore. Why?"

"Never mind." Sam sprung back into action, grabbing the bag and throwing it over his shoulder. He started towards the door but Dean stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Sam, seriously. What's wrong?"

Sam looked over at him and Dean saw that he was scared again. He wasn't sure whether he was scared of what he wasn't saying, or scared of telling Dean.

"I don't know…sometimes I think I hear the demon."

Dean thought his heart might have stopped again. "What do you mean?"

Sam sighed and his shoulders sagged. "Sometimes, when I'm alone, I think I can hear the demon talking to me, telling me you're not going to be there in time."

"In time for what Sam?" Dean tried to hide the fear in his voice, but he wasn't sure he completely succeeded. Sam looked away and Dean knew he was trying to think of a lie, or hide the truth.

"You won't get there in time next time." Sam turned back to look at him. "You won't be able to save me."

"Look, you shouldn't worry about it. I'm sure dad got rid of it so it would never come back. Now come on, let's get out of here before they show up with a wheelchair." Sam looked away for a moment, but when he looked back, any hint of fear was gone.

"It's about damn time."

Darkness. That was all that surrounded him. He could feel the outside world, but no matter how hard he tried to reach for it, it was beyond his ability to get to it. This stupid box and its stupid runes trapped him within. The only way he could ever possibly get out was if someone released him. While he knew it would happen eventually, it would be at least a half a century before someone found out about him and his prison. 50 years confined in a jewel within a box just didn't seem like fun.

From having his own cult to being held prisoner. He had really fallen from the graces of his kind.

Something shifted around him. Something new surrounded him, something powerful. For a second, he felt hope for escape, but then he recognized the power and dreaded it.

Light filled in the darkness. Teristal pulled his form together and looked up through the crystal to see a man leaning casually against the wall in his line of vision.

_What do you want Azazel? _

"You seem to be in quite the tight spot." The man replied looking down at the smoky crystal. His eyes gleamed a pale yellow.

_Release me Azazel! _Teristal's anger sparked viciously. The man just laughed.

"You are no threat to me Teristal. Nor will you be for a long time." this time when the man looked down, his yellow eyes matched Teristal's anger. "Really, this is all your fault. I warned you that the Winchester's were off limits. An attack on Dean I could have ignored. For now he is no threat to me. In the future, perhaps, but as of now I could care less about him. John, even, I could have forgiven over time. Ultimately, I _will_ kill him. But you? You picked out my child from all of them. And that is never forgiven."

_Then his taste…_

"Yes. He is mine and no one else's. No one is allowed to _touch_ him. And for the crimes you have committed against my laws, I'm going to help John out for once. I'm going to bury you so deep in the earth that no one will ever find you again."

With that the box shut, plunging Teristal in darkness forever. He cared not for Azazel's threats. Humans were power hungry and Teristal was powerful. Though it seemed impossible, someone would find him one day. Then he would have his revenge on the Winchesters. All of them, even if it messed with Azazel's precious plans.

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**So yes, I did just set that up for a sequel, though I haven't decided if I should write one or not. What do you all think? I promise my life is about to settle back down so the updates would not take as long :)**


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